Dazed and confused, a very fluffy tabby sat in a rumbling monster. Stars, it had been ages since seeing outside.
A foggy memory now, but he was collecting herbs. The marsh was under his feet, and the sun sat in the sky, perched in the east. The smell of the marshlands still lingered in his dreams sometimes.
He had sent his apprentice back with their herbs, Burdockroot. The former warrior, now medicine cat... she had walked both lives for ShadowClan, and he couldn't be prouder... how many moons ago was that day?
At the start and end of each day, he took time to be present by himself. Normally it was to clear his mind, to prepare and wrap up each day.
However, one cursed sunrise, he sat in between sprigs of marigold and some Twoleg snared him with a net and put him in a smooth den that he could barely fit in.
This den was rattled, handed back and forth. StarClan only knew where the dusty thing had been.
Fuzzybelly pondered what they wanted with him. The Twoleg made such weird noises but they liked clawing his back. That was okay, he supposed, but it wasn't home.
The monster was huge even for monsters, with a very big den where the Twoleg slept, with a smaller den and weird grass on the floor. There was a perch that the Twoleg gave him food rocks and they tasted terrible... what did a cat have to do to get some frogs?
One night, the Twoleg went to sleep, and left the door creaked outside. Fuzzybelly stood at the open crack, his pelt graying slightly from the moonlight.
It was moments like this that brought him to the day with marigolds, and the smell of the marshlands...
He took a deep, full breath. The memory seemed strong tonight, it was like the smell of ShadowClan was a whisper outside...
Go.
The inner voice was so certain, he felt his fur press against him and paws on the earth before he registered the thought, weaving past the door.
Breathe.
He opened his mouth wide. Was it... getting stronger?
Great StarClan!
Sprinting, his paws ambled underneath him. The grasses, was that WindClan? Could it be true? Was this real?
He ran and ran, the moon almost full. Smells came and went, but he would recognize this from anywhere.
His jaw trembled, awash with a scent that wrapped him like his mother's fur, his father's voice, Basilbloom's laugh, the chitter chatter of the marshes...
Home.
The brown tabby sat, frozen, almost in a trance.
Was he dreaming?
